CHAPTER 7
HELENA
King Theron’sshocking words echo in my head.
I’m not going to kill you.
Nor will I force myself upon you.
Is he telling the truth? He sounded so earnest as he spoke, yet how can I be certain? I stare into his glacial eyes, trying to determine whether he’s lying.
Maybe he’s so evil that he wants to lull me into a false sense of safety… only to strike when I’m least expecting it.
Oh, how I wish the stories about the fae’s inability to lie were true, but Mama once told me it was only a myth.
“How… how can I be sure you’re telling the truth?” I finally ask, and I hate that more tears are rapidly filling my eyes. I don’t normally cry so much, but everything about him and this entire situation terrifies me. I just want to return home. To the safety of my little room above Sinclair’s Bakery.
“I’m not in the habit of lying.” His voice is cold and clipped, and his visage hardens.
I don’t offer an immediate response.
He’s totally fine with attacking a human city, killing thousands, and allowing his soldiers to terrorize the residents of Braemar, but apparentlylyingis where he draws the line. I think about the splatter of blood in front of the throne. Did he kill someone in the banquet hall today while his soldiers watched?
“So, you’re not planning to kill me or… force yourself on me…” My voice trails off as I try to gather my thoughts. “What are your plans for me then? Am I to be a servant or a slave in the castle?”
“I will admit that I’m still figuring that out myself,” he says, finally releasing my chin.
Despite my continued fear of him, part of me mourns the abrupt loss of his touch. The cool tingle of his fingers on my flesh was strangely pleasant, and he’s handled me rather gently thus far.
“You could free me,” I implore. “I-I would prefer freedom.”
“Freedom?” He chuckles. “You are bold to ask such a thing of me, darling human.” His eyes sparkle, and he displays a sudden smile, revealing his sharp, pointed teeth.
Handsome, I think. He’s disarmingly handsome… in a deadly,I really hope he doesn’t decide to eat me,sort of way.
Mama used to warn me to never leave the protective walls of Braemar and venture into the forest. According to her, wandering fae males loved nothing more than to rip out the throats of unsuspecting maidens. She also claimed they had a taste for human hearts.
What would my mother think if she knew where I was now? Would she have any advice to give? Any pointers to help me stay alive? Yes, King Theron promised not to kill me, but I’m in a castle filled with dangerous fae soldiers from the Winter Court. If the king himself doesn’t hurt me, eventually one of his soldiers might.
His smile gradually fades, and he leans back on the sofa.
“You were a gift to me from my brother,” he says in a contemplative tone. “I cannot set you free or give you to another. Particularly since Prince Alaric gifted you to me in front of many witnesses. It would be considered a grave insult if I set you free or gave you away. So, I must keep you. That really is all there is to it.”
My heart sinks. Will he truly never let me go?
A thought comes to mind. A rather devious plan that I’m a little proud of. I straighten in my chair and look at him. Gods, he’s so huge and muscular. Though I’ve heard plenty of stories about the fae, I never realized just how big they could be.
I clear my throat. “Um, what if you set me free and just told everyone, your brother included, that you’d killed me? I promise if you release me, I’ll keep my head down and do whatever I must to avoid the fae patrols. Your brother will never see me again. I’ll make sure of it. I also won’t breathe a word of what happened today to anyone.”
“No,” he says immediately, and my heart sinks again. “I don’t like deceptions, and as I already told you, I’m not in the habit of telling lies.”
“So… you’re keeping me?”
“Yes. You belong to me, Helena. Unless I perish and you manage to escape my people, a very unlikely scenario, I can assure you of that, you will remain my captive indefinitely.”
The tears start returning to my eyes, and he frowns at me as though he doesn’t approve of them. How strange. His brother had said that he would like my tears and my pleas for mercy. Yet the king doesn’t seem to like the display of emotion I can’t prevent. He’s looking at me as though he’s disturbed by my sadness, but surely that can’t be true.
He’s the King of the Winter Court.
